Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Of course,” Islan says, her eyes dancing. She’s mischievous as hell. I love it. I never had a relationship with my older sisters. They left when I was so young, and by the time they did, they were so hardened and icy because of the way they were treated by my father, they weren’t the type of people I wanted to spend time with anyway.
The door shuts behind him, and the girls whisk me away to another room.
“Come, help us figure out what we’re doing with our hair. Are you good at that, too, Bryn?”
“Aye, girls, I love things like this. When I was a wee girl, I’d spend hours upon hours drawing princesses on notepaper. Hairstyles and dresses, jewelry and the like. It’s what got me into wanting to be a designer myself.”
“I can’t believe you actually did Fran’s dress,” Paisley says wistfully. “It must be a dream come true to be the designer behind a wedding dress.”
“Aye, it is,” I say truthfully. I’m nervous about getting it done. I have to get my things in town, and soon, but I’ll wait for Mac.
“Now Paisley, I’ve an idea for your hair.”
My mobile buzzes with a text.
Mac.
My heart thumps.
Mac: Hello, beautiful. Staying out of trouble with my sisters?
I smile and quickly type a reply. Of course not.
There’s a pause before he replies. Are you trying to rile me up?
Bryn: Did it work?
Mac: You’re getting there. Why don’t you tell me what you’ll do later today when we’re alone again?
I don’t respond at first but stand and look around me. “Can someone tell me where the toilet is?”
“Right around the corner we’ve a powder room,” Nan says, as she sits back on one of the loveseats, her hands clasped on her knee, watching her granddaughters rifle through fashion magazines.
“Thank you.”
I head to the restroom with my mobile, and when I find it vacant, I quickly shut the door and lock it. I flip the camera to selfie, then shove my thumb in my mouth, letting my lips loosen as I lick it provocatively. I lean over, showing my cleavage to the camera and send him the shot.
The response comes a moment later.
Mac: Jayssssusssss
I can imagine him leaning up against the fence, groaning. I’ll make him groan again when I have him to myself later.
My phone buzzes with another text, and I swipe it on to read what Mac says. But this one isn’t Mac.
Unknown: Where the fuck are you. I can’t find you, and I can’t fucking go home.
I wince. Oh, God. Michail.
Not sure how to respond, I shove my mobile in my pocket and think it over. I remember the way Mac gets all protective-angry when I mention my bodyguard, and I'm half tempted to tell him. But I'm not the type that runs to a man to help her, not when you've been raised with a family like I have.
So I don’t tell Mac. I don’t go running for help.
I'm just about to power my phone off when another text comes in.
Dad: Are you okay? Are you safe? What’s going on?
I stare at the phone, curious what prompted him to say this. Could my cold-hearted father actually be concerned about my welfare?
How odd. He’s never asked these questions before. He's never even showed that he cared, unless it had to do with something influencing my family. I'm not really quite sure how to take it.
I don’t trust him, not for a minute. Sigh. Maybe I do a little.
Another text comes in, then another, names flashing on my screen making me crazy.
I text my father. Everything is going to plan.
I text Michail.
Bryn: I’m fine, fuck off unless you want me to talk to my father.
But when I go to text Mac, I stare at the screen in horror.
No.
No.
Instead of texting my father, I’ve texted Mac.
I watch as the little dots next to his name appear, then stop. Oh, God. I just told him everything is going to plan. What is he going to think?
Before he can reply, I shoot him another text.
Bryn: Oh, hahaha! Autocorrect. Should say THE THINGS I’m going to plan…
I send him heart-eye emojis and hope for the best, cringing. A moment later another text comes in from Mac.
Mac: I’m the one that makes the plan, lassie.
Did I dodge a bullet? Or… no?
I bite my lip, but can’t quell the thumping of my heart, when I reply.
Bryn: Can’t wait to hear what you have in store next. Xxx
I stifle a groan, as I send my father another text. Everything’s going well, thanks. I’m fine. How’s Mum? Are we still in danger?
But I’m not fine. I’m in a precarious position, I know it.
What would the Cowan Clan do if they knew what my real purpose here was? And the better question is… what would Mac do? I hate the thought of him being upset with me.